


Father's day

by Godsliltippy, MadameWinter



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: Electrocution, Gen, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Imprisonment, Psychological Trauma, Torture, Unhappy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 13:16:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15886800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godsliltippy/pseuds/Godsliltippy, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameWinter/pseuds/MadameWinter
Summary: The Hood has had one true victory on his campaign against International Rescue and he intends to abuse its spoils to the full. Prequel of sorts to Godsliltippy's Life is a game and a sequal to Missed opportunities but can easily be read by itself.





	Father's day

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Godsliltippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Godsliltippy/gifts).



> Thanks to Godsliltippy for being so patient with me and for quietly Beta-ing as I wrote this. Also blame the Jeff hurt on her...

Father's Day

It was always nice to receive homecoming presents. Today was no exception. The Hood turned the device over in his hand, admiring the genius woven into its design. To an outside observer, it was nothing more than scrap metal, a piece of junk so easily thrown away, but the tarnished ports in its construction burnt from its rough removal revealed it as the heart organ of Thunderbird 4. Embedded black chips lined the side and the cross hatched fibre wires and soldering hardly improve its appearance but sublime artistry shone very clearly in this tiny miracle. Tension eased across his shoulders, the blazer sagging off onto the table. He didn't pick it up, instead, leaning against the edge letting the hazy emergency lights diffuse over his prize. Prison had wreaked havoc on his muscles, tension coiling into his neck and shoulders however the very sight of the device seemed to ease a little of the discomfort.

The Mechanic has bungled through what should have been a simple retrieval to the point that it was a minor miracle that the device had not been crushed. He hadn’t even been given the delicate task of removal but simply to keep thunderbird 4 disabled, not torn in half like a baguette. It no longer mattered, the mechanic was no longer his problem to deal with at least not at this present moment. The pieces had finally begun to fall so neatly into place that it felt almost alien after so many defeats. A giddiness pulsed over his limbs carrying him forward, like tasting sugar for the first time and the more he contemplated the device the greater that sensation became. Tossing it into the air with a smart flick, the hood watched it spiral before landing with a dull slap in his palm. 

Maybe it had taken that brief break from the action to put his plans to rights and better observe the effects rather than place himself in the thick as he was wont to do. Leaving it to a professional; not that he willingly would call the mechanic in any form a professional, but rather watching the ripples of an adept of wanton destruction wreak havoc on the neatly arranged lives of those he despised. He rather enjoyed the paranoid terror inspired by the sheer overpowering might of the mechanics machines with the thunderbirds taking cruellest blows in their efforts to help others. It was sufficient entertainment in the solitary confines of that prison cell to stave of the restlessness that naturally came with isolation. After all, he knew all too well the effects of holding another captive away from the company of others. 

Straightening from the table, he stalked forward, features slowly illuminated in the glow of the bio-tank nestled in a swathe of piping and metallic life support blocks that whirred with a life of their own. Sickly light threw bizarre shadows over the room, picking out the draped outlines of cables that seemed to be slung haphazard across the ceiling rafters. Occasionally, it was punctuated by the flash of LEDs as the heavy units keeping the biotank functioning hummed, but other than that, darkness shrouded everything. It was a work of art. A tad dramatic maybe, but the air of mystery built into this room was worth it. It was his victory made manifest, every lie, fraud and scheme was woven into this one room even if its occupant was the sole one to appreciate. Idly tapping the glass, he watched the monitored vitals ripple as the figure bobbed sluggishly, surfacing briefly from a heavily drugged sleep. 

Jeff Tracy had never been a big man, more sinew and wire much like his sons, but now ribs pressed up against his skin and his arms had lost careful definition. The weight loss from the last time he had been in here had been too dramatic not to notice. Before, the tank was only just big enough, but now he settled down to the bottom with room to spare. The Hood noted it to the growing list of issues since his return a few days ago. As dutiful as the staff were to his last orders, he didn't exactly want his greatest prize starving to death in his absence. At least not before he had squeezed every last useful drop out. Prison had not exactly been ideal for keeping up the stricter details he had preferred to oversee himself, especially regarding this particular little project. 

Sad, noble features were obscured by a heavy mask feeding oxygen into his body, but he didn't even need to see it anyway. That face had burned itself into his mind with such an intense clarity that it followed him even into dreams. That face was the reason that when each plan was foiled, he had stood back up, dusted himself off and restrategised for another try. All to see that face suffer, to see Jeff Tracy suffer. Maybe some of the plans he had concocted over the years had not been primarily motivated with the destruction of everything Jeff Tracy cared about, but those usually were part of a bigger plan. He could easily make up for it here. The panel blinked happily, controls spanning the interface with an almost innocent appearance. 

Taking a moment to indulge in the choices presented, the Hood glanced at Jeff struggling upright against the weight of the gel. He ran a finger around an orange circle grinning as a jolt of power coursed from the units, sending Jeff in spasms. A gentle wake up call. Jeff jolted upright, writhing, hands clawed the glass, turning into fists that flailed feebly.

The Hood thought back to the little stack of classics that he had bartered his own secrets for, each one a lesson handed to humankind in the hope that one day the same mistakes would not be made. Or alternatively he considered, people would find solace in the knowledge that mistakes would inevitably be repeated. Mistakes that would take many forms but still the same mistakes. Whimsy played with the characters for a moment trying to find a good comparison to the people he knew. Socrates had always appealed with his drive to shake the foundations of people's assumptions and the comfortable ignorance that most humans seemed to prefer. But then the image of the Kingly Zeus was also very attractive.

Jeff was simple. He would find a kindred in Prometheus, tortured for his arrogance. Jeff Tracy torn from his personal Olympus and forced to suffer everything wished on the slightest whim was a delight he had sorely missed in that cell. The reference suited the magnanimous image that he loved to project, soaring down from the heavens to grant hope to humanity. Jeff believed in that image of himself to the point that he would sacrifice his own freedom to ensure that International Rescue continued. But this trip was into Tartarus, not just a cliff on Olympus… there was no rescue here. No dutiful heros to break his chains and kill the vulture. Maybe Hades then would suit his own image more. 

He had watched in the past, Jeff tear the oxygen mask away from his face nearly drowning himself in the tank’s fluid as convulsions took him. That had been easily solved with a sealed mask, with piping snaking into his nose. Gradually, however, Jeff stopped reacting, seemed to become accustomed to the pain and simply tightening into a fetal position. Upping the dosage had been the only way to break that open and send him into shuddering attacks again. There was always satisfaction in watching bruises bloom when spasming limbs hit the glass with far too much force. It was irritatingly hamfisted, but the gradual tolerance was not unexpected. Irritating, but not inconveniencing. It was only a single button in the arsenal set out in front of him and pure revenge was only half the reason he had imprisoned his rival with such attention. 

Jeff’s attacks calmed, the hood tapped the glass again drawing back the attention. Bleary eyes gazed out from the clear plastic visor with a grim resigned exhaustion. He had to give it to Jeff for being able to hold a steady gaze even after two years of relentless interrogation and a constant cocktail of drugs swimming in his system. Leaning back onto his heels, the Hood watched Jeff gradually swim through the sludge reaching out to touch the glass, a spark of recognition dawning through the pain. Clearly the drugs hadn't yet robbed him of all wits. Not that he wasn’t about to complain at this point, the sight of slow realisation dawning was all too delicious to dilute. Anyone else would have caved in by now and in some respects Jeff had caved, but then there were moments like this when the Hood saw that some fire still burnt in him even if it was only betrayed by faint wisps of smoke. The eyes were enough to show him everything he needed to know. Maybe it was that resistance that kept him returning after all this time, a resilience that seemed to be codified into the Tracy dynasty. That beautiful unwillingness to accept the inevitable that he admired and aspired to.The mask covered the entirety of Jeff’s face with only his hair exposed to the gel. The dignified dark pepper grey had faded to silvery white with only a few streaks revealing the colour it had been once. It wasn't just his hair, colour had slowly drained from his body leaving him translucently pale and ghostly. How apt, the Hood thought as a smile split his face. Gone was the illusion that he was somehow better for his personal code and above human flaws. Like a shell left out in the sun, only when the pretenses fail does the true character of a man reveal itself. 

Jeff was valuable, even after five years of imprisonment, because deep within that mind lay the lifeblood of International Rescue. Every code, procedure, and pattern; the organisation themselves may have adapted and improved, but Jeff was still at its core. Taking him had been easy. The lagoon was nothing but a cavernous crater ringed by trees and sandbanks without a single trace of civilisation to be found. All he had to do was let hunger and thirst do its job; seeing Jeff barely alive on the ground clutching a transmitter painstakingly constructed from the innards of the ship, sunburnt and starving had been the biggest pleasure of his life. It was a victory he could claim for himself. However, now cracking him open was proving the greater challenge. The torture had been subtle; isolation and deprivation, often simply for the pleasure of watching Jeff Tracy go mad with the solitary confinement. Any physical pain was to force the point. It was successful too… secrets hadn't exactly flowed like milk and honey, but the Hood would always remember the first piece of information wrangled from jeff, a piece of military intelligence. That had made his day. One by one drips of information would slip out; revealing just how much had been entrusted to him. Viital secrets were still buried inside Jeff Tracy, secrets ripe for exploitation and development. Technical secrets he had stashed away from competitors, military secrets he had sworn to keep as a pilot, personal secrets that held value only to the man himself; the Hood wanted them all.

Panning for those secrets had become something of a hobby, with each one torn away being a small victory over his prisoner. It didn’t matter how seemingly trivial they were, they were Jeff Tracy’s secrets and that alone made them valuable. He rarely dropped anything of value but once in a while, Jeff's resolve had broken enough to snatch some of true worth. The Hood would hold those moments up with careful curation, augmenting his arsenal to scan for even more. How else was he to attack International Rescue if he didn't thoroughly do his research, any pain was just a delicious bonus. 

However, now things had changed. At one time, the Hood had one goal, ownership of the Thunderbirds and their technology. He had believed that it would be the technology that would provide enough power to subdue any who stood in the way of his world ownership and, while the theory of that was still accurate, he hadn't counted on the human element that was the Tracys. Talented as he knew they were, Jeff had instilled in them in a strange pacifism that he could only attribute to his actions in the Global Conflict. The Hood had believed that they wouldn't fight back, that his niece wouldn't fight back, but he had been surprised that the level of resistance he had met, not just from international rescue, but from the people determined to protect them. Images of Tanusha still stung as he thought back over the power generator room and on the roof as he watched the Thunderbirds tear his ship to pieces. He had hoped… the lesson had been well learnt, was all he could say now. Simply taking it would be impossible. 

He glanced at the exhausted Jeff, hand pressed against the glass in an effort to stand only to slip back down under the weight. No one had endless reserves of energy, not even the mighty Thunderbirds and he was a patient man. The Mechanic may not have been as successful as he hoped, but had, at the very least, pushed International Rescue to its limit. Stresses had appeared, stresses he could use. The TV-21 had proven that yet again today, but now more than ever, the hood needed the personal touch. He needed to hurt the Tracy boys repeatedly exactly were it hurt the most, their father. 

Spinning the processor device casually, he tapped a few of the controls linking the complex array of systems around him, cybernetic eye whirling frantically with the new input/output commands. This wasn’t planned but it might at least sooth the rest of the smarting. Orange flicking reduced to steady glow mingling with the tank’s opalescence, numbers streamed over its vision with speed that set the world spinning. Stomach clenched as he dismissed the view, still not adjusting to that nauseating sensation. 

The transmitter gave a cool click as it sank into the hidden port behind his ear, meshing into the waiting prongs. He never had to wait very long, the electric pressure built behind his eye with the tell-tale vibration becoming loud enough to hear. His mind centred, clearing away anything that wasn't necessary, and listened for the soft whispering of another's mind. While this was easy for the Hood, Jeff never responded well, pushing away from the glass of the mask clutching his head. He could hear the frantic attempts to block the probes that stretched out into his mind, desperately trying to build some defence as the intruder dug even deeper. Jeff may have been a man of discipline, but as a similar device, more crudely and permanently screwed into his neck flashed, whatever he could concoct crumbled. Never a pleasant sensation having your thoughts hijacked. 

Jeff’s entire body contorted, struggling desperately as he always did against the intrusion. The hood glanced at his watch curious as to how long he would fight this time around. The mind probe still pressed its attack, bulldozing the barely organised thoughts into submission with contemptible ease. 37 seconds. Jeff's record was 2.08 minutes, but he had never reached that number since. He sank down, forehead pressed against the glass, drugged sleep still fogging clear reason. The hood could practically taste the flash of anxiety with backwash thoughts buzzing, fragile and reeling back in an effort to hide. This was the side of Jeff exposed by the careful peeling away of defences, hiding away as soon as the stronger personality reasserted itself. A pity. He rather liked the rush of panic that came in his wake. The pain rolling off Jeff was palpable, wordless, but surprisingly coherent. 

*Hello Jeff…. Pleasant dreams?* 

*....like you would ever let me have them in this cage…*

*Oh come now Jeff, I know you hate mornings, but I thought you had better manners than that.*

Old banter, the same pleasantries that they had circled for years without any conclusion or resolution. A parody of normality that served only to juxtapose; to unbalance any attempt to take back control. A basic trick really. 

*.....*

*You're very quiet this evening… is the tank uncomfortable in any way? I can alter the temperature… increase the nutrition dosage.*

He would do that anyway as he felt a flicker in Jeff's life force. 

*...What do you want me to say? Nothing I say will change anything.*

*You don't know until you try. It's such a nice day, maybe I might let you out if you ask nicely.*

*And you would make me pay for every second, I’m not stupid enough to fall for that, so you stop trying. *

*But Jeff, who else are you to talk to? Yourself? First sign of madness.*

*If I am only now going mad… then I must be stronger than I thought. Gaslight someone else, you may find them more interesting. *

*Ah but Jeff, I don't want anyone else. I was, however thinking of bringing you a present seeing as it is Father's day and your sons are currently occupied… but seeing as my company is so unwanted, I'll find another to give it too. Dr Sable maybe?*

Snapshot memories teased Jeff's unwilling mind, dropping like photographs into his consciousness. Like intrusive thoughts, they manifested but with an unnatural clarity that had him recoiling. A mud soaked TV-21 lodged in the ocean floor; Gordon struggling in its cockpit as gas began to suffocate him; Scott shaking, tears of effort as he fought to control Thunderbird 1 threatening to pour down his face; Alan descending into a panic screaming into the blue of scott’s uniform... 

*Stop it.*

The exploding TV-21 rocked though the connection like a physical blow. Jeff flinched back, over-exhaustion heightening the pain, but a glare was thrown back with a smoldering hatred that the Hood hadn’t suspected Jeff was capable of. Teasing that out had been so rewarding, stripping back each layer to expose each raw emotion. He smirked studying the steel blue eyes that had somehow never faded, the playground cruelty of it all was amusing. Satisfaction deepened as the image of Gordon helpless in the desert made its way across. Holding back the image of the GDF sand cruiser speeding to his rescue, he felt the frantic thoughts truly recognise the state his son was in. 

*Stop...please*

The hood couldn’t quite figure out if Jeff was referring to the images flooding his brain or just the knowledge of his sons in torment. Probably both. He tapped the device turning on his heel, the connection instantly silent… at least from Jeff’s point of view. That day’s events had unfolded through the Mechanic’s link much to the Hood’s delight, storing themselves in the data banks. The fact he could translate those streams of data into a visceral experiance with the desired perspective without numb words dulling the effect added an extra delight and letting them replay for Jeff's personal painful viewing held such-and-such catharsis. He wondered how much Jeff really needed to see. 

*It's such a pity.... I was planning to reunite you with your beloved TV-21 but I'm afraid your sons got in the way, but they were rather amusing today, which made up for the disappointment. However you don’t seem to be in a talking mood so I think it will wait… I still don’t know if one of them is alive, but clearly you have no interest in what I have to say.*

*... What did you do?*

Suddenly, something sounded over the connection, ringing in Jeff’s voice, a tone that he had never heard before. A chill ran down his spine, prickling his hairs upright. Something pressed forward into the connection, something that made him suddenly take notice. It pulled at him weakly at first, but with a growing, frantic power that the Hood was forced to push back against with more strength than before. Jeff hadn’t moved from the glass, and his eyes, now wide with ferocious concentration, bore into the Hood. It snatched out, looking for the information it desired, frantically searching with glass hands that cracked with each tear, but refusing to give up. With each broken fragment, the hood could taste a need that burned. A need to know, a need that wouldn’t give in until it had what it was looking for. It knocked the wind out of him, forcing a sharp intake before pressing firmly back, feeling it scratch against the more practised defences. Like a homeless, desperate stray. Pity wasn’t an emotion that made an appearance that often. As he let the image of the GDF cruiser slip into Jeff's mind, the force softened, melting away into the image and the other fragmented thoughts began to centre. The reality of how vulnerable this connection was truly struck. Whatever it was that Jeff had managed to reach out with had stirred the uncomfortable thoughts long considered buried. It wasn't the first time Jeff had somehow dragged an unforeseen reaction from him… but it would be the last. 

The hood considered his options. Clearly, Jeff's mind could take much more than what he had already been given without shattering completely. He could physically feel the evidence of that, but was this just a man pushed too hard with nothing left to lose? No. No, he still had something to lose and he was now keenly aware of that fact, too aware. That focus spelt trouble. An already fragile state was beginning to slip, the balancing act between interrogation and keeping jeff sane enough to keep him useful, and it would fall into Jeff’s favour. Not to his benefit in the long term, of course, but that wasn’t the point.

He had been fortunate that Jeff's own ironclad will had held more than its share, but keeping him off balance would prove difficult unless something changed. Sniffing with irritation, the Hood knew he should have expected this sooner, it was the shift every prisoner he had interrogated experienced, so it was imperative to prevent it here. That challenge had been half the fun, but there was far too much at stake. The biotank had been a part of the plan. Jeff tracy was, after all, a military man. Pain was not exactly an unknown to him and the threat of death was like an old friend. He wasn’t weak. Stubbornness and spite had seemed to be the only thing fueling his resistance; a powerful combination when paired, but now the focus was taking a route less predictable. The Hood had once prided himself on being the interrogator that could break open any person regardless of how much they resisted. It had cost everything, but a person had to be proud of something. If his sons were the sole reason of Jeff Tracy’s existence, then that had to be carefully exploited. The Hood could almost admire the mental chess game at work here. 

His comms blinked with a silent message. 

“Good, She's finally here. It’s nice to know there are people who can be relied upon to get a job done properly."

The disconnect was sudden, dropping Jeff back into silence. He seemed to relax into it, no longer subjected to the barrage of images or pressing out his own attempt at control. Tension that had bunched into his wasted muscles bled away, allowing himself to drift downwards. An orange spike slowly softened as his heart rate slowed. 

“Yes Jeff, breathing tends to be good for you.” 

The mumbled thought slipped out uncontrolled. The hood turned away adjusting himself, recentring the thoughts that were decidedly untidy for his liking. A thought made him turn back, fingers ghosting over the control panel pushing a thin bar upwards. Hydraulic pumps hummed at the request, emptying a clear vial of liquid into the vat. Jeff was far too awake for his liking. 

Clicking footsteps echoed faintly, the brisk pattern of Dr. Sable unmissable even at a distance, like an ominous wind. The last piece in this charade, her particular set of skills may not make her the relentless force that was the Mechanic, but she had something far more valuable than just technological brilliance; a surprisingly deep well of resources and a diabolical creativity that rivalled even his own minds concoctions. 

Up until now he had relied on his old skills of interrogation, extortion and management to pull off each heist, haemorrhaging money that he could ill afford. The Mechanic was supposed to change this with his ingenious devices, but expenses merely skyrocketed with the need for materials that just didn't exist on earth, at least not naturally or readily. Not to mention the fact that International Rescue had a habit of destroying them. Bribes were never cheap; his GDF agents had suppressed much inquiry into his technology and movements, but the Hood knew that this was an unsustainable policy and one that all too often ended with betrayal. A change of tactics was required. He had tried going bigger. That had proven unsuccessful so now maybe it was time for subtlety to take the stage. Perhaps now, things might turn out a little differently. Somehow, Dr Sable had managed to persuade him to build one last project for her before he bulldozed the Hood from prison. One last project that he had only theories about. The Mechanic may have failed in his purpose and even escaped from the GDF meaning he would have to be dealt with soon, however enough spoils had been reaped to be considered a true failure.  
The smart rap on the door echoed through the chamber, pulling his attention away from the unit’s settings.

“Enter please, Doctor.”

She barely waited for the end of the sentence before walking neatly through, lab coat swishing. Dr Aisling Sable was as tightly wound as a soldier, all angles devoid of softness. Even her red hair had been visibly tamed back from her sharp face. As ever, not a single crease was without her knowledge or oversight. Appearance spoke volumes about a person and he missed such displays of precision in prospective partners. Dr. Sable had already proven to be more than competent at field work when she had arranged the salvaging of the processor. Before, she had simply provided the necessary scientific advances needed in his effort to compete with International Rescue, but that was about to change. The habitually stony expression she wore was unable to mask gleaming eyes, speaking all too loudly of someone not just out for profits sake. Glimpses of a grudge that seemed to drive her entire operation shone through her reserve much to his delight. As he had observed in Jeff Tracy, stubbornness and spite were powerful motivators. She held up a suitcase, balancing it in her arms and letting it click open with a snap. The hum of active cybertech hung over the devices as blue light pulsed ominously. 

“The neuro-devices, as you requested, designed and programmed for your…” her eyes flicked towards Jeff's biotank, “... guest.”

The subtle accent, unplaceable, but unmistakably tinged with a sadistic delight. She strode forward placing the case down on the table, folding it out into a display. The Hood had never called torture devices beautiful before, but this was as close to a work of art. A neatly folded network of nodes interlinked with fibre with the restraints plated with titanium. A black visor, lined with needles and even more fibre cable, sat at the top of the display like some crown. One could have made a comparison to a crown of thorns, but he wasn’t about to give Jeff that level of legitimacy or nobility. The control devices lined the outside of the display, each flashing with holographic interfaces ready for commands and input. When correctly fitted, the device would enclose the victim in a straight jacket hold, preventing even the hope of breaking one of the delicate fibres needed for the illusions. 

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted an execution feature, so I added it anyway, but I cannot guarantee the sophisticated levels of pain that the other device is capable of.”

“My dear doctor… it doesn’t need that. The purpose I outlined was enough.”

Gradually, he lifted the helm, crisp wires brushing audibly against each other as they unfolded. Light refracted off its surface, giving the unnerving appearance of crystal. He had underestimated nano-technology and its capabilities. The mechanic had used the cruder form of Dr. Sable’s Neuro-devices, but she had clearly learnt from his failures; even his attempts to harness nano-technology seemed pale in comparison. Even Professor Hackenbacker, marvellous mind as he was, had barely scratched the surface of a technology if this device was anything to show. Genius like this was hard to come by, let alone a genius with a cruelty to match his own. What sat in front of him was proof of that. She slowly stalked around, eyes never leaving the case and its contents. 

“You have every right to be protective of this masterpiece Dr. Sable and after so many… unfortunate events, I can understand why you have increased your price, but I wonder if we couldn't come to some kind of arrangement.” 

The Hood gestured behind him to the Biotank inviting her to go look. She barely shifted, not leaving the pacing pattern, instead looking sharply at him.

“Those unfortunate events have put me in a rather troubling position. The GDF may not have the legal right to watchdog legitimate businesses, but that doesn't mean that I am not harmed by the continued failure of your employees. I can only make so many components untraceable before people begin to suspect. Mineral rights are not exactly hidden from public viewing and you are becoming quite wasteful. I do not appreciate that in the slightest.” 

Her tone, despite its topic, remained smoothly practised, betraying nothing of her real feelings on the matter. Hands folded neatly behind her, straightening her back to a full height that towered over the hood a good few inches. In all rights, there should have been nothing subtle about her, but the Hood struggled each time to read her intent beyond the obvious. 

“Especially considering that your Executive Director is merely a dullard front and you are supposed to be dead.”

Her face broke into a sardonic expression, somewhere between a smirk and a grimace. Something in her demeanour turned predatory, stalking around with an expression that even the Hood was mildly taken aback with; he’d only ever seen spiders make that expression when their prey decided to be a little bit more lively than expected. It practically radiated from her in a wave. Clearly she was not as worried, as her words would have him believe, not with her spun web of connections. Dr Sable was a puzzle that he would love to put under his particular type of microscope and pull her mind apart piece by piece, that is, if she would allow him to get that close in the first place. 

“As I said… I do not appreciate waste.”

Her line of gaze was all that he needed this time to read her thoughts. He knew a little of the once close friendship between Dr Sable and Jeff Tracy, but there was still much that she had concealed away from even expertly prying eyes. Jeff Tracy had hurt her badly, making a shared grudge towards the same man the only reason that they would work together in the first place. Criminal connections may be the base of her power, but he could tell from the way she operated that it was only the means to a different end. An end he hadn't yet identified. Enemies could be easily dealt with, even used to a more productive end, but rivals with unknown objectives made for a much more interesting play. Too much of Dr. Sable was a mystery for his liking. When they had said Enemies in that age old saying, they really should have put Aisling instead. He watched her appraise the tank from afar, eyes subtly shifting between the case and tank. 

What he knew about her had been personal research, rumour and the occasional name drop from the myriad informants maintained around the globe but even then it was too infrequent to be reliable. 

Another figure slipped in from behind her, hair shrouding most of her face from view. The black mission suit, characteristic of Dr. Sable’s personal operatives, kept her mostly from sight, but the Hood was far too accustomed to darkness to miss the shifts in shadow and shades. A bodyguard. She doesn’t trust me, the Hood mused, keeping an eye on the case in front of him, or she's not as confident as she seems. 

“You don't have to hide… I'm not about to kill your employer.” 

Dr. Sable’s face twitched. With a smirk or annoyance, he couldn't tell, but it was enough. The woman who stepped from the shadows was well built and muscled, the carapace armour bulking her further. A red Holo visor obscured much of her face that wasn't hidden by her hair, but from what the Hood could see of her, a face far too unblemished to indicate a long service. A white stripe accented her swept fringe, completing her air of nonchalant menace. She walked with the swagger of someone who was trying hard not to show that they had no idea what to do with themselves at all. Dr. Sable swept around, coming to stand beside her bodyguard who had taken a position awkwardly by the table. A long fingered hand rested on her shoulder in the cold approximation of a maternal gesture. 

“This is Havoc, current assistant. Much of the device’s configurations were of her design, so I believed it prudent for her to see the result of her work. This has been pre-programmed with your requests, but I do have one question… what do you intend to do with what you get? Other than general attacks on International Rescue.”  
A thin chip was pulled from her pocket, but remained tightly pinched between her fingers as she straightened, her expression, suddenly unreadable.

“I don’t intend to make it available for purchase by other sympathetic groups, if that is what you are referring to; but the potential for development is impressive. We have to think of the betterment of the world, don’t we Doctor?”

Dr. Sable raised an imperious eyebrow, her arms folding, looking at his lopsided grin with distinct skepticism. 

“Development? Please, your modus operandi is destruction and chaos with a side of potential profit… You haven't backed any revolutionary groups, either financially or physically; you have no discernible pattern of targets other than International Rescue; you limit even your criminal connections. Sharing my opinion on your method of working is pointless, but I would prefer it if you did not try to act the salesman.”

He grinned, widely and with the malice of a mind steeped in the darkest of intent. 

 

“But that's just one part of it. A wise man once said that the journey is just as valuable as the destination, and the people you meet are even more so. We share a grudge Dr. Sable and we share right here an opportunity to indulge that grudge to the fullest. Jeff Tracy is a valuable resource, but when did all this become work only. Your device will not only make our planning easier, but watching him relive each torment over and over will be reward in itself. You can share in this.”

Would that be enough to ensure her? He knew that Dr. Sable’s help was not optional at this point. The tell-tale itch behind his eye was growing stronger. A replacement was due even if a part of him balked at the thought. The procedure would lose what trace he had on Mechanic for good. It was a risk. His loyalty had been conditional, barely even consenting, so that vulnerability was all too apparent. Preparation was needed. He didn't truly mind losing the Mechanic himself, more in the way he was losing an excellent cover man. True his machines were terrifying, but if the Hood hadn't provided the materials or tools… none of it would have been possible. If Dr. Sable had not given him access to her black market contacts, that would have been the end of the Mechanic’s spree of terror. He would have starved himself of resources. Maybe he still would. Without Dr. Sable’s support, the mechanic would be forced into the open more and as incompetent as the GDF were, International Rescue weren’t, his niece certainly wasn't. The Mechanic would be dealt with either by him or by his niece. There was no question in that. 

The uncomfortable realisation of his new dependence on Dr Sable’s support became very stark as he took stock of his options. Prison had left him out of shape with a scattered organisation that barely deserved the name. He was fortunate that this base hadn't been discovered given the amount of assets frozen. She would know this all too well, maybe had even forseen it. The project.  
He wasn't yet sure who would be operating it, but if Dr. Sable was as good as she seemed, that would likely be revealed. 

 

“I want to break the world, in their cosy secure lives. Humanity is complacent and one day someone worse than myself is going to take advantage of that… but I want to be there first. Call it ruling the world if you wish; I prefer the term development.”

“The world's landlord. In all my life, I don't think I've met a person that willing to dive into that kind of paperwork.The handover negotiations alone would need more than a new filing cabinet. ”

Normally, when the Hood received quips like that from employees or even partners,he wasn’t too pleased, but something in her tone made him genuinely laugh. Laughter bubbled out, echoed around the room with a warmth that generally wasn’t present, even when he found happenings genuinely funny. It surprised even himself. It was a while before he finally stopped; Dr. Sable’s dismissive expression shifted to one of bewildered amusement clearly not expecting the reaction she received. Havoc shifted silently looking at Dr. Sable for orders on how to deal with this and if this was a threat. Wound tight like a spring, the hood could tell that inaction was the nemesis of this particular agent. A useful detail. Setting the helm down, he looked Dr. Sable straight in the eye. 

“Paperwork is just a fact of life Dr. Sable, and if I become the ‘landlord of the world’, I'm pretty sure that delegating won't be too much of an issue.”

Pausing, he drew closer to Dr. Sable, close enough to see her illuminated in the tank’s glow, drawing up to match her stiff posture. Close enough to see his reflection in her eyes, spinning the device over in his pocket. 

Dr. Sable examined him, clearly looking for the hidden agenda. There was one, naturally, but he was sure that she had one as well; that was just how they were as people, always a scheme within a scheme, ready to snap its jaws over the unsuspecting. 

“What else?”

“Excuse me?“

“What else? That processor you are holding was acquired by my agents and it is to power my design. True, at your expense the mechanic made it but what you offer is nothing more than just a passing regard in the great scheme of things.”

Validation, a guarantee that she wouldn't be slowly drip fed substandard intell from a man that any wise person wouldn't put a sliver of genuine confidence in. Thoughts ticked over in his head, considering, toying with possibilities that would keep Dr. Sable’s ever encroaching involvement happy, but never fully letting her in. He didn't like the fact that her motives remained obscured from view. 

“my good doctor… How can I offer when I do not even know what this project is? You are too good at keeping secrets.”

That last sentence was said with a smile but the teeth behind it showed more than a touch of annoyance. She seemed to sense that thought as her own smirk danced over the thin lips. Turning back, she looked at the tank and the prone form, clearly weighting the opportunities presented before her. 

“A vehicle unlike any other… Or more accurately, two vehicles. They would be like nothing ever seen before; with technology that would outstrip a thunderbird. Two ground vehicles capable of combining to become one ship with flight. Cloaking device, emp shield stealth, a speed of mach 2.0…. Completely nano-built with neuro-fibre connection for superior handling.”

“A weapon.” 

“No… a vehicle. Neither are mounted with anything other than emp shock and a high speed link. Weapons are too easily traced, you should know this.”

This was certainly true after the Global conflict, weapon manufacture had been far too regulated for his taste with only the most outlandish designs slipping past the survalliance networks. Dr. Sable had come the closest to manufacturing weaponry but even then certain components were far too closely watched even on the black market. He began to see why she had stayed in contact with him rather than leave when he had been captured. He had come close. He had come close to truly disrupting the hold the GDF had on the world's resources and that was vital to whatever she had in mind. 

“A partnership then. The mechanic is no longer a resource I can use, but you can do much more than replace him. Right now… the GDF and the thunderbirds are reeling, the world is paranoid; a partnership in the destabilisation of a world that is already crumbling.”

It was gamble. The Hood needed her resources while he rebuilt and dealt with loose ends. Jeff was merely a bonus to working alongside him while she played her own cards. He could only imagine the absolute chaos that would be unleashed when she let loose those Erinyes on the world. Beginning with that project… Rapping her nails against the glass with a static rhythm in time with the churning life support machines. 

“One condition…. “ 

The voice came almost too quietly, lost in the thoughts clearly swirling around in her head. He nodded, eyes never leaving her. 

“I want a presence here. I want a deciding vote on missions and attacks. This is an investment that I don't want some little nobody messing with… I will provide my own agents to work any new technology I provide as the mechanic is far too clumsy.”

There it was. Her foot in his door and a step closer into his labyrinthine operation. He smiled, keep your rivals close. He wondered if this had not been her plan in the first place, even down to presenting the designs for the project that only needed the device in his hand. 

“I would expect nothing less. Presence is most certainly warranted considering the contribution you give to this venture, and yes I agree, a specialist is needed in this operation. Might I suggest Havoc here? She already has familiarity with the technology you provide and must have a considerable mission record if she is escorting yourself.”

He gestured to the bodyguard, smile never leaving his face. Visibly stiffening, she glanced at Dr. Sable with silent surprise tensing her entire self. The Hood suddenly found himself reevaluating Havoc as he watched her reactions;her first loyalties were to Dr. Sable, naturally, but now he could see the edge of cabin fever. She wanted out. He could use that all too easily. Dr. Sable glanced back at Havoc catching her eye and probably listening to some coded message that he wasn’t privy to. 

“Agreed, Havoc's companion Fuse will accompany her. They are one of my most successful paired teams and both could use a permanent position. 

“Then it's settled…”

Dr. Sable chuckled, drawing his thoughts away, exposing a thin, toothy grin. The sardonic humour returned, burying the gleam of burning hatred under a dark mirth. Straightening her coat, she turned fully to face the Hood who had returned to the table, hand resting on the lip of the case like an invitation, head tilting upwards into the same imperious posture she had held when they first met. 

“Oh, but Mister World's landlord, there is paperwork to be arranged and I can hardly deny you that.”

That caught him. For a moment he was without words, just staring at her with what must have been a completely dumb face. There it was yet again, her ability to surprise him. He would have to watch that very carefully if he was to have any hope of using her to his advantage. Blinking rapidly, he once again found himself a situation where he could have felt insulted, but he didn't. 

“Shall we at least sit down with a cup of tea first? It's nearly four.”

The smile widened with a curt nod.

“I would be delighted.”

As they left the room, the Hood placed the chip down on the table taking one last look at the tank with its glow softly fading into its night cycle. Jeff very slowly raised his head, looking at him with an expression of pure resignation. He wondered how much he had heard over the connection, it didn’t feel open, but the Hood wasn’t about to put it past the pilot to find a way to open it from his end. Looking at his watch and calendar, the Hood smiled even more widely than before.

“Happy Father’s day, by the way, Jeff…”

As he stepped out, the room plunged into darkness leaving Jeff with nothing, but his broken world.


End file.
